In this article I present you today, a photo of my mother took in 1977. The moment was photographed by his young brother in the family house. My uncle who was approximately fourteen years old, had received a camera as a gift and he practiced the art of the photography by taking his old sister as a model.

At the time, my mother is sixteen years old. As you can see, it was completely normal to smoke when you were adolescent, in front of your parents and in front of children when you lived in France, in the 70s.
It was a period where the dangers were not seen as today. There was no belt behind cars, children were not obliged to stay behind vehicles and we could smoke on television studio sets or even in public places.

I always adored this photo. I always exposed it in my room. 
This object has a very big sentimental value for me. Obviously, it is a question of my mother so I find this cliché very beautiful. But I am also fascinated by the photographic work realized at the time by his young brother. The adopted angle, the chosen moment, the captured beauty of my mother, I think that is the responsibility of the mythical. My mom does not know that she is photographed, she is caught red-handed, in full discussion with her parents.

The black and white of the photo emphasizes all the more this mysterious side and adds a capital gain to what is for me, a real small work of art.
I know that this photography will escort me throughout my life. I shall expose it in my first accommodation after my studies, then it will finish on the fireplace of my lounge when I would have a big house with my children. My mother can tell the story of this photo when her grandchildren will ask her for what she is doing so perched for so many years in the sitting room.